


Visited Upon The Son

by fiercynn



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angst, Episode Related, Episode: s02e08 The Sins Of The Father, First Time, Fix-It, M/M, Romance, Season/Series 02, Sexual Content, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-12
Updated: 2010-08-12
Packaged: 2017-10-11 01:50:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/106999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiercynn/pseuds/fiercynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spoilers for all of Merlin S2, and AU to the end of 2.08, "The Sins of the Father", in which Merlin does not lie to Arthur. <i></i><br/>He opened his mouth, a denial on the tip of his tongue, but the words wouldn't come out; in the back of his head he could hear a litany of voices saying  traitor, traitor, traitor<i> over and over, and he didn't know whether they meant Uther or himself.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Visited Upon The Son

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks as usual to veverghede, Scribe (glass_moment), and slylilgoblin for amazing betas!
> 
> See notes at the end for other works inspired by this one.

Merlin burst into the throne room.

Arthur had his father backed into a chair, one hand on his neck and the other aiming a sword at the king's throat. Even from a distance, Merlin could see that he was shaking with fury, and his blood ran cold at the sight. He had gone into full panic when he realized that by rushing to find Gaius to demand his own explanations, he had left Arthur alone to seek out his father. He had run the entire way, heart in his mouth, because he knew beyond certainty that Arthur needed Merlin to hold him back.

"Arthur! Don't! I know you don't want to do this," he shouted.

"My mother," Arthur growled, barely seeming surprised to hear Merlin's voice, "is dead because of him."

"Killing your father won't bring her back," Merlin insisted, spitting out the words although everything inside of him begged to keep them back, to let this be over once and for all. "You've lost one parent. Do you really want to lose another?"

"Listen to him, Arthur," said Uther, and Merlin felt a fresh burst of rage against him, this liar and _hypocrite_ who had hurt so many people, Arthur included, all for his selfishness.

But Merlin had a duty to do.

"Arthur, please," he said, swallowing, because to speak any more was becoming difficult. "Put the sword down."

"You heard what my mother said," Arthur snarled. "After everything he has done, do you believe he deserves to live? He executes those that use magic and yet he has used it himself." His grip on Uther tightened. "You have caused so much suffering and pain. I will put an end to that."

It was almost too much for Merlin, keeping a clear head – almost too much knowing the truth. For an instant, Merlin thought that maybe the only way he could go through with this was to lie, lie to himself and to Arthur, convince himself that this wasn't true for Arthur's sake.

He opened his mouth, a denial on the tip of his tongue, but the words wouldn't come out; in the back of his head he could hear a litany of voices saying _ traitor, traitor, traitor_ over and over, and he didn't know whether they meant Uther or himself. That made it a million times worse.

"_Arthur, _" was all he could say.

Arthur glanced back at him then, just for an instant, but the look of rage and devastation in his eyes set something alight in Merlin. Without meaning to, he could feel his powers rising up inside of him as he desperately tried to think of a solution, some way to stop this mess before either he or Arthur did something they could never take back.

Arthur turned back to his father, ready to strike, and that was when Merlin's magic acted instinctively for him.

There was a burst of blinding light, and everything swirled around them, whipping past Merlin's face. As his magic spilled out of him, the throne room disappeared until Merlin could see nothing but flashing colors and feel nothing but the wind, all his anger and pain and desperation flooding through his body like a poison, and the bile was rising up in his throat as the wind came to an abrupt stop –

– and he fell to the ground.

The mossy ground, because as he blinked up, he realized he was suddenly in the woods, the light of the sun filtering through the dark canopy of trees.

What on earth had he _done? _

With a jolt he remembered Arthur and scrambled up, ignoring the pounding in his head from using so much energy. When he stumbled to his feet he saw that Arthur was there as well, a few feet away, sword still in hand and his face still wrought with tears and sweat.

He looked at Merlin, looking as shocked as Merlin felt at the fact that he'd apparently – _magicked the two of them out of Camelot_, without consciously deciding to do it, to…here. Wherever here was.

"Merlin," Arthur choked out, "what – how are –" He took a shuddering breath. "Did you – did _you? _"

Merlin was frozen, unable to speak, fear adding to the venom that was coursing through his veins.

"You _did, _" Arthur breathed, astounded, anger flushing into his face once more. "You're – Merlin – you're a – _why did you do that? _"

And now Merlin could feel tears running down his face, because every time he made the decision to save Uther's life it broke him a bit more. But this wasn't about Merlin; this was about Arthur, about saving Arthur from himself and ending the cycle of revenge and violence that haunted the Pendragon name.

"You would have regretted it afterwards," was all that he could manage to say.

Arthur barely seemed to notice Merlin's anguish. "You dare to presume my thoughts?" he snarled. "How would you know what I want?"

_That_ made something snap inside Merlin, pushed up his own fury and frustration, his desperation for everything he had to give up again, and again, and again. "Because I know the king you're going to be," he shot back, anger replacing pain for a brief, explosive moment. "And your greatness cannot be founded on vengeance. You're a better man than your father, and unlike him, you understand mercy."

"Mercy," Arthur repeated, eyes still burning.

"And, Arthur," Merlin said, "you love your father. You would have hated yourself."

Arthur was still staring at him, shaking with anger and despair. But then the color seemed to drain from his face and he suddenly made a defeated noise in the back of the throat – a noise that pierced Merlin to the core, because Arthur giving up his fury was nearly as painful as the alternative.

Arthur gasped for breath then, and he sank to his knees, the weight of his armor and family and _past_ driving him down into the ground.

Merlin rushed to him, struggling to hold Arthur up as he continued to heave for breath, head and body bowed. Merlin had to push at Arthur's shoulders with all his strength until he could maneuver him into resting his forehead on Merlin's shoulder. He could barely sit up himself, but Arthur's body was racked with sobs now, wetness seeping into the collar of Merlin's shirt and quivering that shook them both. The feeling of Arthur against him, so helpless and undone, broke Merlin's heart all over again; and he couldn't, absolutely _couldn't_ do anything but wrap his arms around Arthur, cold metal plates jutting into his skin, and hold on as fiercely as possible.

After a few minutes that felt like an eternity, Arthur wasn't shaking quite so violently and had calmed down a little. At least, enough that Merlin could stop and think practically about the aching in his shoulders and knees and the increasing probability that he was about to collapse at any instant.

The armor, he decided, that was the biggest problem. Arthur was still leaning most of his weight on Merlin and it was a little difficult to move his hands to the right position, but once he had shifted and wriggled a bit he could just barely reach the back clasps of the gorget. Even then his fingers went numb trying to unfasten them, and he still hadn't quite gotten them when Arthur turned his head a little more into Merlin's neck and said, muffled, "What on earth are you _doing? _"

"Mail," was all Merlin could manage at first, then, "heavy."

"Oh," said Arthur, leaning back automatically. Although it took some of the burden off, for a moment Merlin missed the familiar weight and warmth. He could feel his arms again, though, and he began to work on the next openings.

After a moment, Arthur said roughly, "Don't you have an easier way doing that?"

Merlin's hands stilled, but Arthur was looking down. "Too tired," he admitted. "I think the spell drained me."

Arthur gave a jerky nod but still refused to meet his eyes, and Merlin focused on removing the armor. It was a task he'd done a hundred times before, and sometimes it seemed as if that was all he'd done since coming to Camelot – take away the things that Arthur didn't need or could no longer bear. That was Merlin's job, his duty and destiny all rolled up into one, and in turn all he needed was for Arthur to stand up tall and strong when he could, lifting Merlin up with him. Even as both jobs became more difficult, Merlin knew that the only way was to keep trying harder, because if they both leaned on each on each other they would somehow stay upright.

And if Merlin had previously thought his level of devotion to Arthur was insurmountable, well. Today had proved him wrong.

The last piece of plate armor fell to the ground, and Merlin nudged Arthur into lifting his arms up so that Merlin could remove the hauberk. Somehow, his sore arms managed to lug the mail over Arthur's head and off. And then it was just Arthur, stripped of protection but maybe, maybe also of some burden.

Merlin let himself sit back on his heels, exhaustion suddenly flooding his body. "There," he said, unnecessarily.

Arthur looked up at him then, meeting his gaze, and his tearstained face and hollow eyes made Merlin's mouth go dry. He had a sudden urge to thumb at Arthur's tears, try to make them vanish through touch alone.

Merlin's expression must have changed because something shifted in Arthur's face, curious despite the exhaustion and anxiety. But the way he was looking his questions at Merlin, that intent look on his face, the way he was depending on Merlin alone, that was dangerous. For both of them. And then Arthur shifted even closer, warm and familiar, but Merlin couldn't help drawing back in a sharp breath of surprise – and then Arthur was sitting back again, the curious look fading to be replaced by that same misery.

"Why did you bring me here?" Arthur asked almost under his breath, though Merlin could hear every word perfectly.

"I didn't know what else to do."

"You could have stayed out of it," said Arthur, but his voice had gone dull and blank instead of angry again.

That almost scared Merlin more.

"You really didn't need to involve yourself," he continued.

Merlin stared. "I was already involved."

Arthur's eyes narrowed and he seemed on the edge of another biting reply, but he paused and said, stilted, "Nevertheless, it was not your affair."

Merlin opened his mouth to argue, but Arthur stood up then, cutting him off. "Well?" he said, glancing back at Merlin. "Are you going to be able to take us back, or must we find a way to walk?"

"What on earth are you talking about?"

Arthur sighed. "Returning to Camelot, _Mer_ -lin."

The tone of exasperation should have made Merlin feel relieved, but it lacked its usual undercurrent of fondness – or really, any emotion at all. Merlin stood up himself, but he watched Arthur warily. In just a few minutes he had gone from uncontrollable and fiery to cold and entirely closed off, with that hiccup in between that Merlin was at a loss to interpret, and Merlin didn't trust the new mood any more than the first. It still wasn't _Arthur. _

"I don't think that's such a good idea," Merlin said quietly.

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "Oh? What do you suggest?" And the blankness in his voice made Merlin reach for him again, an instinctive and involuntary gesture, because he needed to touch Arthur to get him past this next barrier. But Arthur stepped back just as quickly and looked hard at him, and something tightened in Merlin's chest.

He let his hand fall back to his side and took a deep breath. "We should stay here for a little while," he said.

Arthur gave a bitter laugh. "Why? So I can spend more time reflecting on my life?"

"Yes! Or, well, talking is good too," said Merlin, trying not to sound too earnest.

"Unlikely," said Arthur. "Stay here if you want, but I'm leaving."

He turned to stalk off, but he barely made it a few steps before seeming to collide with something in midair, stumbling back with shock as an invisible barrier kept him bodily from going forward.

"Arthur!" Merlin said, rushing to him once again. "Are you alright?"

Arthur rubbed his nose, glaring at Merlin. "I thought you said you were tired."

Merlin reached out and touched the area that had blocked Arthur, feeing something solid and warm beneath his hand. He brushed his fingers along the invisible surface but it didn't end, so he made himself slip the tiniest bit of power into the wall. In an instant it was glowing faintly gold, and Arthur whipped around to stare at the barrier that was surrounding them in a very large but complete loop around the trees that surrounded them.

"Well?" Arthur demanded.

Merlin let the color remain, not too bright or opaque, but enough to see where the boundaries lay. "Um. I think it was part of the original spell I did to bring us here?"

"You _think_?"

"It wasn't any kind of formal enchantment," Merlin said, shrugging. "Sometimes I just have to shove all of my power in one direction and it'll act on what I want without me even knowing or deciding anything. I guess I didn't want you to leave yet."

Arthur looked angry again, and Merlin was almost glad – anything would be better than the way he had closed off completely – but after a moment, his eyes went shuttered and he gave a careless shrug of his own. "Fine. Not that it'll do any good. Let me know when you've figured out how to dismantle it."

He walked away from Merlin again, moving as far away as he possibly could within the boundaries of the circle, settling himself behind a tree that blocked him from Merlin's sight.

Merlin let himself drop to the ground again, heart pounding and eyes blurry. He felt lost, twisted with confusion, every emotion that he'd possibly had warring inside of him, and it was almost Arthur's indifference that hurt the most. But above all was the feeling of complete and utter exhaustion, as if he were an empty shell of a body that longed to fall into oblivion.

"Oh why not," he whispered to himself, surrendering to all the forces that had tried to hold him back before, and let himself sink into the ground.

*

When Merlin awoke, the sun had sunk a little below the tree level. He sat up, blinking, and saw that Arthur was seated much nearer than before, leaning against a tree. Noticing Merlin's movement he looked up, then cleared his throat hurriedly.

"About time," he said, still with an edge to his voice that made Merlin's heart sink. "Any chance of getting some food? Or are we supposed to starve in this circle of yours?"

"Oh, right," said Merlin, scrubbing his hair with one hand. "Er, what do you want?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I don't _care_, Merlin, as long as it's edible. Let me know if that's too hard for you."

Merlin ignored him and set about transforming nearby clumps of grass and dirt into bread and cheese, as it was easier to change objects than create them out of thin air. Arthur watched with a distasteful look on his face – Merlin didn't know if it was a result of the dirt or the sorcery itself, but regardless, Arthur said nothing when Merlin gave him his share. They ate in what would have usually been a companionable silence but for the stony look on Arthur's face and the way that he refused to look at Merlin though Merlin had made a point to sit near enough that Arthur couldn't pretend he wasn't there.

And Merlin was tired of feeling this heartsick and alone; he was ready to try and take Arthur's burdens anytime, again and again, but only if Arthur was actually there _with_ him, not this far away. Even before the discovery of Uther's betrayal, Arthur had been more remote in recent months, sharper at the edges and with fewer shining moments of affection. Sometimes Merlin could hardly bear it, each pinprick building its way into a greater pain. He'd had enough.

"Morgana tried to kill your father once," he said conversationally.

Arthur's head shot up. "_What? _"

"When he had Gwen's father executed," Merlin explained. "She hired the sorcerer that Tom was working for to kill Uther. But then I guess at the last minute she changed her mind and killed the sorcerer instead."

Arthur looked completely dumbfounded, though Merlin could tell he was trying to hold in his reaction. He turned away slightly, his jaw working. As if talking about something he could see in the distance, he asked, "How do you know that?"

"I went after her. I knew what she was going to do, so I went and tried to fight the sorcerers off, but they were too strong for me. They only knocked me out, but I awoke just in time to see Morgana stab their leader."

"You went after her," said Arthur, looking back at him, a strange expression on his face. "_Why? _"

"It was Gwen that made me realize, but I think I knew it all along: there's been enough death, and killing your father couldn't bring back all the people who had died as his hand. And," Merlin said, looking straight into Arthur's eyes, as clear as he could be, "I didn't want Morgana to be a murderer."

Arthur was silent for a moment. "What of all the people who will someday die at his hand?"

"There are better ways to fix that than killing your father, and that wasn't what you intended, Arthur. You were looking for vengeance."

"Does it matter?"

"It matters if you're looking into the past or into the future."

For a moment Merlin thought that he'd finally gotten through to him. Arthur was staring at him as if contemplating his words. But then a shadow passed over them, a cloud blocking the sunlight briefly, and it was enough to break Arthur's gaze and remind him where they were.

Arthur glanced back at Merlin, eyes glinting. "And you, Merlin," he said, his voice hard and low. "Which way are you looking, hmm? Are you focusing on the future so that I can forget that you've been lying to me all this time?"

There were things that Merlin could say to argue against that; reasons that he'd compiled in his mind over all the time they'd been friends, explanations that made sense even under normal circumstances. But in the face of Arthur's anger, Merlin was helpless to defend himself because he knew that the real betrayal was _lying_, especially now when the world Arthur knew was falling apart around him.

He bowed his head. "No," he whispered. "I didn't think you'd forget, and I'm sorry, Arthur, I'm _sorry_."

Merlin closed his eyes, willing himself to get the words out, then looked into Arthur's eyes again. "I wanted to tell you. I wish I had. But I didn't, and I'll understand," his throat closing up, "if this is it. If you – if you hate me."

He meant it, too. He'd leave, if Arthur asked, maybe even forever.

Arthur stared at him. "Hate you?" he asked, tone unreadable.

Merlin tried to choke out a laugh. "As long as you don't try to kill me, it's not the worst that could happen." Though it wasn't far, at all.

"I should," Arthur said, blankly. "Hate you. Shouldn't I."

It didn't sound like a question, and that sparked something like hope inside Merlin. "Does that mean you don't?" he said carefully.

"I – don't know," said Arthur, and exhaled. "Fuck. I. I don't know."

"Tell me," said Merlin softly. "You can hate me later, if you want."

Arthur almost smiled at that, Merlin could tell.

"Fine," he said, with that annoyed voice that Merlin knew better than to take seriously. "I – don't know what to think. I should hate you because it's what I've always been taught, but then I think about what my father did, and you, and I can't justify it any more. And I should forgive my father because he is my _father_, but –" He fell silent.

"You will, in time," Merlin told him.

Arthur shook his head, and now the words were almost spilling out of him, betraying his agitation once again. "_No_. I cannot forgive the thousands of deaths that he brought upon his own kingdom, nor the lies that he raised us all to believe. I will not kill him, and I may be cursed to forever love him, but I will _never _forgive him."

There was nothing Merlin could say to disagree with that, and he had no desire to try. "You are in no way to blame," he said instead. "And you always knew that your father was wrong about magic, and you did your best to go against him."

"Another betrayal," Arthur snorted.

"_His betrayal_," Merlin insisted. "Making you think that you were wrong when you were just being a good man, and a good prince."

"You really believe that?" Arthur said quietly, voice just a bit hoarse.

"_Arthur_," Merlin said with a sigh. "Do you even have to ask?"

Arthur swallowed, looking down at his hands. Merlin couldn't help but ache for him, still, so devastatingly fragile even as the world weighed down on him, and so unwilling to admit the fundamental _ goodness_ that was what made him Arthur. "I should ask you the same," Arthur said quietly.

"What d'you mean?"

Arthur shook his head. "Did you really think I could hate you?" he said, sounding almost bitter. "After everything? After defying my father to save you, risking open war to help Ealdor?"

"I –"

"Gods, Merlin, even if I hadn't found out about my father's hypocrisy – even if I believed that magic was truly bad – I don't think I could ever hate you."

Merlin felt the bottom of his stomach drop out; and it was astonishing, how quickly he could feel so completely lost in the train of Arthur's words, could only hear each one reverberating in his mind without being able to connect it to anything else. He didn't know where this was going and almost didn't want to, because it had taken them to a place that he had never expected, and it frightened him how little he could read Arthur right now.

"I'm sorry," Arthur continued, shocking him further. "I've been – insufferable, for _ages_, and I think it's because of you but that doesn't mean you deserve to take the brunt of it -"

"You're always insufferable," Merlin tried to say, but it came out as little more than a whisper, barely audible over the thumping of his heart.

"And all of these things, I should be able to handle them on my own – that's my responsibility as crown prince, and I shouldn't place burdens on unwilling shoulders, but sometimes it's just…easier."

Arthur stopped, and if he was going to continue looking so utterly broken, then Merlin'd had just enough of this reckless honesty, no matter how rare and eye-opening it was.

He crawled over until he was in front of Arthur, sitting back on his heels, knees barely touching Arthur's. Merlin took one of Arthur's hands in his, gripping his fingers and rubbing a thumb over the back. "I would do anything for you," he said, soft, and pressed his lips to Arthur's knuckles, gifting his loyalty and reverence to his prince in the time-honored manner. "You have to know that."

"Merlin –"

"_Anything_," Merlin repeated, and this time he turned Arthur's hand over and kissed his palm, because tradition be damned; there had never been anyone like the two of them in all of history and there never would be again, and perhaps that made all of this worth it.

Arthur was staring at him helplessly, grief and frustration and something like longing in his eyes; and when he leaned in and kissed Merlin, everything else in the world seemed to melt away.

Arthur's mouth was warm and wet and utterly intoxicating, and after a moment when he pulled away, Merlin couldn't help but follow, half-falling over as he moved forward a too quickly, feeling Arthur begin to smile and open up as if this was something he was becoming certain about, rather than conflicted as with everything else.

He braced his arms on either side of Arthur, bracketing him, and Arthur curled his fingers into the front of Merlin's shirt to pull him in closer. There was still too much space between them, though; too much distance that needed to be overcome, and Merlin had been waiting long enough for this chance. He pressed another quick kiss to the corner of Arthur's mouth before crawling into his lap, Merlin's knees tightening around his thighs, steadying himself so that he could thrust his fingers into Arthur's hair.

Arthur groaned and Merlin tried to capture the sound with his mouth, kissing him more urgently and possessively, because Arthur was _his_, not Uther's or the kingdom's or anyone else's, and Camelot should feel fortunate that Merlin cared enough to let Arthur live for it. "He has no hold over you," he murmured. "You can love him without belonging to him, because you're _mine_," and he whispered the word into Arthur's mouth over and over, reassuring, comforting, claiming, until he pulled back to see Arthur's face, and Arthur nodded shakily.

Merlin smiled and kissed down Arthur's neck, tilting his head back for better access, and he could feel Arthur shudder under him as he bared his throat. Arthur's arms were snaking around his back now, pushing under Merlin's shirt, his hands stroking up Merlin's spine as if he was memorizing each of his vertebrae through touch alone, which had Merlin trembling too, and he let Arthur push him back to tug his shirt over his head.

"Gods, you're thin," Arthur said reflexively, and then looked abashed. "That is –"

"Charming, sire, really," Merlin said dryly, and retaliated by wrenching Arthur's shirt off as well and pushing him flat onto his back, straddling him. A soft layer of moss was now blanketing the ground, and Merlin was thinking that maybe he could get used to this whole unintentional magic thing if it was always this convenient. He set himself back to the task of exploring Arthur's collarbone with his tongue, grazing his teeth over his Adam's apple and reveling in the slight hitch in Arthur's breathing. "Maybe you should stop making me worry about you so often then."

Arthur looked startled. "You – really? I mean, I'd noticed, of _course_, but I just assumed that something else –"

Merlin flushed a little. "It doesn't matter," he said, trying to elicit another gasp by sucking hard at a spot just under Arthur's jaw.

Arthur grabbed one of Merlin's hands and brought it to his mouth, making Merlin look him in the eye as he kissed the tips of his fingers. "I'm sorry," he said, raw and honest. "I didn't know. I'll try to stop being such a…what was it? A clotpole."

"Now there's an impossible task," Merlin told him, and grinned as Arthur's look of concern melted into a glare.

"Impossible, is it?" he challenged, and took advantage of Merlin's pause to surge up and roll Merlin over onto his back, leaning over him as his groin met Merlin's, shifting his hips experimentally as Merlin wriggled beneath him. "I am a prince, I'll have you know. Nothing's impossible for me."

"Big words," Merlin managed to say, trying to tilt his hips up for more contact, but Arthur pulled away infuriatingly. "Even now you're failing."

"Well, maybe it is a little more fun this way," Arthur mused, and swooped down to lick one of Merlin's nipples.

Merlin made a little noise that, to his chagrin, was completely unintentional, and arched beneath him, his hands threaded in Arthur's hair once more as Arthur did amazing things with his tongue that maybe did seem a _little_ impossible. He took his time there, making Merlin let out tiny gasps of his own, before mouthing his way down Merlin's body, mapping out the muscles beneath the skin, making a point of kissing each of Merlin's ribs, hands running up and down his sides. By the time Arthur reached his stomach, Merlin pushed up against him once more; this time Arthur rocked back, and Merlin could feel how hard they both were, separated only by maddening amounts of cloth. "Arthur," he murmured, "trousers –"

"Magic," Arthur replied breathlessly, twisting his hips in a way that made it clear he had no intention of stopping for anything as tedious as removing clothes.

"_Oh_," said Merlin in wonder, and once again he didn't need to say anything as his eyes flared and suddenly there was just skin and sweat and delicious heat between them. Merlin took the opportunity to entwine his legs with Arthur's, their cocks flush against each other, and Arthur _moaned_, pushing back almost frantically.

It was wonderful; it was addicting and enthralling, but Merlin wanted _more_, wanted to remove all the distance he possibly could, wanted to make Arthur so irrevocably a part of him that he could never lose him again.

"You," he panted when he was able to, "you can, you know. Have me." He paused, quirking a wry smile. "You already do."

Arthur looked shocked again, eyes wild, but in a way that pleased Merlin to the core. "Have, as in…?"

"Yeah. If you want."

"Do you want me to?" Arthur asked, clearly trying not to sound too fervent.

"Oh _fuck_ yes," said Merlin, thrilled and somehow _even more turned on_ by the wave of desire that washed through Arthur's face.

"Do you," said Arthur, breath ragged, tripping over the words, "can you - ?" And Merlin conjured once more, pulling a flask of oil from the air around them, and watched intently as Arthur tried to slick his fingers as quickly as possible.

He leaned up to kiss Merlin, slow and sweet, and Merlin almost got lost just in that again, his entire world narrowing down even further, when Arthur broke away and nudged at Merlin's knees, getting him to hitch up until his legs were wrapped around Arthur's waist. Arthur kissed him again, still licking at Merlin's mouth as he brought his fingers up.

The first push of Arthur's finger inside him was strange, not exactly painful, but unfamiliar and out of place. Arthur drew it out and then pushed back in slowly, and Merlin couldn't help but wriggle a little, but he shook his head fiercely when Arthur looked a question at him.

"Just…try not to be so tense," Arthur said, voice low.

Merlin bit back a sarcastic retort because Arthur in this mood was likely to take him seriously, and the idea of not doing this was more than he could bear. He tried his best to relax, letting his body go as slack as possible, muscles loose and easy.

"That's better," Arthur murmured, and pulled his finger out to stroke slowly, torturing, around the entrance to his hole, slick and wet, and Merlin felt a shimmer of heat in his stomach just from the _idea _of Arthur taking his time to finger him so carefully, as if he enjoyed this way to explore Merlin inside and out. Then it was more than just the idea that had him shivering, as the light touch grew more insistent, and Arthur took the opportunity to add another finger when he pushed in again.

It still felt uncomfortable and a just little bit wrong, and Merlin wasn't sure how he could feel any more full, but suddenly Arthur's fingers bent in a little inside him and oh, _there_, that spark running like a shock through his body was what this was all about. He let out a little moan and Arthur smiled before he did it again, moving a little quicker, in and out, twisting and curling to touch Merlin at the perfect spot. By now Merlin was starting to push back against Arthur's hand, needing more but having a hard time moving, and when Arthur scissored his fingers to open Merlin wider, the sensation made him grab so hard at Arthur's arm that he feared it would bruise later.

Arthur stopped, a concerned look in his eyes, and Merlin just gripped harder. "Fuck, Arthur, you have to do it, you just, if you don't I'm going to, to, and I need you to do it first, I need you here, _now_ –"

"Are you sure?" Arthur breathed shakily.

"_Yes I am fucking sure you complete prat_," Merlin gritted out, tightening his legs around Arthur and trying unsuccessfully to maneuver himself into position, if Arthur wouldn't.

It was a testament to Arthur's want and sense of urgency that he didn't tease Merlin for that, just swallowed hard and nodded, then dipped his fingers in the oil once more to prepare his cock. Merlin half-wished he'd done it himself, but it was enough to lie there and feel himself growing even harder at the prospect of what was to come. And when Arthur looked at him again, eyes dark with desire, he gave a sharp nod, and Merlin felt his mouth go dry as Arthur pressed inside.

Arthur went slowly at first, drawing backwards before pushing back in carefully, until Merlin was ready to whimper with frustration, but he didn't even need to say anything before it became too much for Arthur and with a groan, he cocked his hips forward hard.

And that, right there, that was it; Arthur and Merlin together against the world, ready to battle the gods themselves for each other, together in every possible way. It was all they needed.

Merlin kept reaching up to nip at Arthur's lips as he thrust into Merlin, one hand spread wide on Arthur's back and the other running mindlessly through Arthur's sweat-damp hair, bucking as Arthur hit that spot again and again, and Arthur was saying something now, a torrent of babbling from which Merlin could only pick out one word, _Merlin, Merlin, Merlin_, over and over. And then he was gasping Arthur's name too, wild and desperate and _reverent_, because Arthur was the moon and the sun and the whole universe, and even though he could ask everything and anything of Merlin, what Arthur wanted was this, _this_, this feeling of perfection for both of them, and Merlin didn't think he ever wanted it to stop.

Arthur came inside him with a violent shudder through his whole body and his mouth on Merlin's, letting Merlin swallow his moan down. And Merlin was _so clos_e to being there, almost pushed over the edge by Arthur himself, but he still couldn't help rocking back, until Arthur took Merlin's cock in one trembling hand and managed a few more deep thrusts, jerking Merlin off until he spilled over between them, finally.

*

The first thing Merlin thought when he awoke was that the enchanted moss seemed to be better than most sheets that he'd ever lain on, satiny soft and plush without any of the annoying plant bits to go along with it.

He opened his eyes to see Arthur watching him, propped up on one elbow and chin in his hand, and Merlin briefly glimpsed a look of fondness on his face before it flickered into a familiar smirk.

"I've discovered how to get rid of the barrier," he announced.

Merlin blinked up at him. "How?"

Arthur gestured broadly with his hand, and Merlin turned his head to see that the barrier was in fact gone. The floor of the forest, however, was entirely carpeted with the same thick layer of moss, stretching about as far as the barrier had outlined.

He looked back at Arthur. "Do you think –"

"Oh, yes," said Arthur, eyes glinting with mischief. "This accidental magic could prove dangerous, Merlin, if you're likely to repeat it with whatever barriers are around, be they imaginary barriers or actual _walls_."

Merlin thought for a moment, then grinned. "I could put this one back up?"

He'd meant it playfully, an innuendo and teasing invitation, and Arthur smiled back, but not before a shadow had passed over his face again. Stretching, he sat up. "We can't stay here forever," he said.

It was something of a relief to see Arthur picking up his responsibilities again, enough that Merlin was tempted to be the reckless one for a bit, and try to milk as much out of Arthur and this place before they had to return to reality. But the look on Arthur's face was so intent and unconsciously noble that it sparked something inside Merlin, that measure of love and loyalty that was for Arthur the prince and future king as much as it was for Arthur himself. And even if Arthur was unequivocally _his_, Merlin thought he could allow Camelot to borrow him for a while, in times of need.

"I know," he said, sitting up as well, looking around for his shirt and pulling it over his head. He studied Arthur. "What are we going to do?" he asked quietly.

Arthur laughed. "I have _no idea_," he said, a hint of a wildness in his voice. "Any suggestions?"

"You can't kill him," Merlin said seriously, "but you could make him abdicate."

Arthur's face stilled back into somberness. "No," he said, shaking his head. "No, Merlin, I'm not ready to be king." He clenched his fists, staring off into the distance, a determined look on his face. "But I am ready to make him listen to me. I'm ready to change as much as I can while I'm still a prince, and to let him feel the burden of whatever is coming to him."

Merlin touched his shoulder lightly and Arthur turned back to him. "I'll be there," he promised. "Right beside you, I'll be there for whatever you need. Always."

Arthur smiled at him, and then kissed Merlin swiftly, his own promise and pledge written in the curves of his lips and the touch of his hand, choosing Merlin again, again, _again_ over everything else in the world.

He broke off, and Merlin felt a little dizzy. Arthur grinned at him again and stood up, giving him a hand up as well. Then he looked around.

"Merlin," he said, a note of disbelief in his voice, "where on _earth_ are my trousers?"

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Visited Upon the Son (A Thousand Shattered Futures Remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/125122) by [Woldy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Woldy/pseuds/Woldy)




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